


Young Justice - From The Ashes

by Aflashofthought



Series: The Luckiest Unlucky People Verse [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Red Hood - Fandom, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Coming back to life, Gen, Jason's Resurrection Story, Lazarus Pit, league of shadows, more to be added as story goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7079992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aflashofthought/pseuds/Aflashofthought
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason Todd died a horrible death at the hands of the Joker. This is his story. From death, to surviving, to finally being alive again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At The Hands Of A Madman

**Author's Note:**

> This took way to long to finally get in the works. But I had a concussion for the past few weeks and then my computer crashed! But without further ado here you go!

March 9, 2015  
Team Year Four  
Abandoned Storage Center, Blüdhaven  
10:15pm

The first thing Jason noticed when he came to was that his head hurt like fucking hell. Seriously, since when did getting knocked unconscious warrant such a violent response from his body? It was like his brain was rebelling against his skull and attempting to break out. All in all it was not a pleasant feeling.

He hoped that when Alfred or Bruce noticed he was awake that they would get him some pain pills. The headache made him feel like a tunnel out of Arkham was being dug through his skull. It was horrible, felt similar to that time when he had gotten a good hit from Harley's mallet. And despite what B said, Harley was really good at sneaking, he was not just not paying attention. It wasn't his fault that the particularly attractive teenage guy had stopped at the street corner at the same time Harley found him, and he most certainly had not been staring at the guys butt, not even for one second. He would deny that for the rest of his life and on into the afterlife.

The second thing Jason noticed was what set him on edge. Wherever he was did not smell like the Batcave. The Batcave was a distinct mix of oil, sweat, leather and several other spare scents he hadn't payed much attention to. But more importantly it smelled safe, those scents intermingling meant he was okay.

This place, wherever it was, smelt nothing like what he was familiar with, at least not in recent days anyway. He had been living with Bruce for almost nine months now, so he never went to places like this anymore to sleep. He was eternally grateful to Bruce for that because he suddenly remembered why he didn't come to places like this unless he needed to.

The entire room, building, whatever it was reminded him of the sewage center he had taken a field trip too last month with his science class. Learning how all the chemicals and their particular usages worked in cleaning the water. It was a strange mix of mildew, mold, feces and dead animal that protruded upon his senses. It made him want to gag and only by pure will power did he not lose the steak he had eaten for dinner a little while ago.

His hearing was the second sense to return to him. The first sound he heard was the plip and plop of water on the floor of where he was. It was almost deafening in the complete silence he had been laying in. He promised, that when Bruce found him or when he escaped, whichever it came to, that he would not admit to being scared when he heard the warehouse door open.

It was almost as if the door opening had been the cure for his hazy return to consciousness. All at once his senses returned full force and it was all he could do to not flinch as his obviously painful injuries throbbed. He became acutely aware of his lack of gloves, boots and utility belt. He tugged experimentally at his hands and winced as the cold metal of handcuffs dug even deeper into his wrists. They were so tight that they just barely allowed enough blood to reach his fingers that they didn't go numb. Definitely to tight to dislocate his thumb like he was taught and slip them.

That's when he heard the blood curdling laughter. It ricocheted off of the walls and bounced around the room, causing Jason to shiver. He knew that laughter all to well. Fear filled his eyes when the footsteps came ever closer to his body. Laying there on the floor, defenseless and bound, he had never felt so helpless.

The laughter sounded again and the feet stopped just to his right. He forced himself to go stock still, keeping his breathing even, making it seem like he was asleep. He should have known better when he felt something metal, something hard, tapping on the back of his head.

"I know you're awake bird boy." There was that awful laughter again. "I have seen all the tricks from the very first Robbie-poo. You can't fool me."

Jason continued his charade. Bruce had done everything he could to keep him away from this madman. But he guessed it wasn't enough because he was laying here right now. His mind was frozen and he could now understand why Bruce wanted to keep him far away from the deranged man. He hadn't even been around him for ten minutes and he was already scared shitless.

He thought that he had convinced the madman that he was asleep. That was until the crowbar came down onto his upper back in a harsh swing. The sound of metal hitting flesh as it ripped through his thin armor tore through the freezing air. A startled scream left his throat as he was yanked upwards by his hair roughly and forced two inches away from the clouds own face.

"Look alive bird boy, you and I are gonna have some fun tonight." The smile on his face was twisted. The look in his eyes showed that he would enjoy causing his pain very much. Jason had thought he knew true fear, but as he looked the man standing in front of him in the eyes, he realized he didn't. Jason could only hope that Bruce found him soon.

Because if the duffle bag the Joker was pulling all sorts of different tools out of was any indication : he was going to be in for a long night.

  
11:15pm

Jason was certain that he had never been in so much pain in his life. The constant tingling sensation, one that felt like pins and needles being jabbed repeatedly into his skin hadn't stopped yet. The Joker had electrocuted him several times in a row with a tazor set on its highest setting. And that was just the most recent thing.

Just minutes before, and for almost an hour before that, Joker had been dragging a knife up and down his body slowly and deeply. Digging thick crevices that gushed blood and allowed him to see the muscle and tissue beneath his pale skin. The lined his chest, arms, legs and back. Joker had proceeded to take salt and rub it into the wounds quite vigorously. He had screamed himself hoarse during both.

He felt himself mercifully begin to slip into unconsciousness. The world was turning black as the tazor yet again sent electricity coursing through his veins. The black dots danced in his eyesight and his other senses started to dull. He prayed in thankfulness to a God he was now sure existed for letting him slip away from this horror shack for at least a short amount of time.

That's when he realized that something wasn't quite right. The Joker hadn't spoken in quite some time, which in and of itself was concerning. Not only that but the mans usually heavy breath was no longer next to him. Finally deciding that it was not worth his time to ponder he began to lose all sense of coherent thought.

That was when the the ice cold water came crashing down on his body. He gasped and let out a hoarse whimper like noise. The awful laughter sounded again and then someone grabbed neck and slammed his head down onto the floor several times in a row. By the time they stopped he knew he would have a concussion and he felt like crap. He could hardly think, let alone do anything to defend himself.

He was shivering violently when Joker came back up to him. He closed his eyes as the clown yet again poked him with the metal thing, which he had learned was a crowbar. He groaned lowly in response when the crowbar yet again came down a few times on his back.

"You're not any fun birdy." The Joker sounded sad. "You've got a nice voice but you don't use it." He made a contemplative humming sound. "The first Boy Blunder had so much fire, I liked his witty comments. But sometimes he really made me mad. So guess what, you're gonna take his punishment for him!"

That God awful laughter once again rang out in the room. Making him want to cry his eyes out. Only his tiny little shreds of pride and dignity made it so that he didn't. He prayed and he begged and he just wanted Bruce to come already. It was so horrible and he didn't know how much longer he could take it.

12:15am

  
The Joker had left awhile ago. But Jason was hardly aware of the world around him at the moment. His entire body was fighting against him, saying that he needed to rest, and do it now. His mind fought the natural instinct, trying to stay awake like Bruce had taught him, but it appeared to be to no avail. The world was darkening around him.

One last burst of will power allowed him to drag his arms over his legs and out from behind his back. His entire body was trembling from the motion, he closed his eyes for a second, trying to ward off the gathering dizziness.

Being just as stubborn as ever Jason took a deep breath. He would get out of this alive. The Joker would not get the last laugh tonight. Batman would be here soon and then take him home. It would take awhile for him to be able to do field work again but when he could. Well, the Joker would be in for a Batman and Robin style ass kicking. That is if Bruce doesn't put him in a body cast for the next several months.

With a groan Jason lifted his head gingerly off the floor, trying not to end up slamming himself back down if he didn't have the strength. His entire body was screaming at him from that one little movement but he was never one to listen to limits very well. Struggling to keep his breath he managed to turn himself over onto his stomach and slowly began to pull himself up to his knees.

The entire world lurched for a second and forced Jason to stop his slow progress. Several deep breaths later and he was, though in severe pain, kneeling there with his hands held behind his back by the handcuffs Joker had no doubt taken from some cop he tortured and killed however long ago. Jason suddenly sympathized with whoever that poor bastard was, because they no doubt went through almost the exact same hell.

'Damn it, that's where I draw the line. I will not be comparing myself to a dead person.' With that thought he forced his body to comply to his will. It yelled at him to stop and threatened to black out on him but eventually did what he commanded it to do.

He stifled a scream as he bent his body in ways he really shouldn't have at that moment in time. But the pain paid off because his arms were now in front of him and he was still kneeling on the floor of the warehouse. All things considered he guessed that he did a damn good job in terms of keeping himself awake and calm in this situation.

Another few seconds to orient himself and he was pushing upwards on his shaking legs. They protested greatly against his weight being placed on them right then. He heard something snapping in his right side and he was pretty sure that his right hip might be broken. But hopefully that was a thing that Alfred and Leslie could fix, and soon, because Jason did not take well to being confined for long periods of time. Not after spending years on the streets being able to do practically whatever he wanted.

He was swayed back and forth but he was standing on his own two feet. That in and of itself, he supposed, was an accomplishment. And then he realized that he was complimenting himself on things he would normally be able to do without a second thought. That told him that maybe his body was in worse condition than he was realizing consciously. And that particular thought was one that he wasn't enjoying entertaining.

His stomach jumped straight up into his throat as he attempted to take a step forward. The door to the warehouse was only about six feet away, he could do six feet, hopefully. Another shaky step later and he was sure that he would be able to make it. Willpower only went so far but it seemed that in this case it would be just barely enough.

The world tilted and he suddenly found himself laying flat on the floor for the second time that night. Various curse words in several languages that he had picked up on all over Gotham flitted through his mind. The world was suddenly seeming a lot less hopeful than it had been thirty seconds before. He mentally sighed since he was pretty sure he had a collapsed lung and an actual sigh would deprive him of much needed oxygen at the moment.

This time he decided to forgo standing and crawl his way to the door. It wasn't the most dignified way to be found if someone saw him but it was better than killing himself by walking. He was many things but stupid was not one of them in most cases. This was one of those not stupid cases.

He heaved and began to haul himself towards the door which promised freedom. He had been stuck in his own personal hell for the past few hours and he would kill to be able to go back to the manor and sleep this off. The thought of Alfred's food, and a warm bed to sleep in when this was all over kept him going those last few feet to the door.

By the time he had reached the door a few injuries that clotted had been torn open again. But he didn't particularly care about that in the current moment. He was reveling in his success when he reached for the handle on the door. He grabbed the handle and turned it, expecting for it to give and allow him to swing the metal door open. But the handle stopped half way to opening.

A small thread of panic went through Jason as he tugged on the handle. No matter how hard he pulled the handle it didn't have any give. And he took a deep breath to calm himself down. Slowly he released his hold on the handle as he used one of Bruce's breathing techniques to calm himself down. He had just gotten himself back into a semi not panicked state when he heard the beep. He turned his head and was faced with his worst nightmare. A timer counting down on top of a stack of dynamite.

00:10

So this was it. This was how he was gonna die after all those years of fighting for his life. He was just gonna have to lay down and take this as it was coming to him because Bruce was many things but he was no speedster. Even if the Dark Knight were to come crashing in he wouldn't get them both out fast enough and they'd both die. Jason suddenly found himself praying to a God he had sworn to himself didn't exist years ago again, for one thing, that Bruce hadn't found him yet. A dead Robin was better than a dead Batman and Robin.

00:09

00:08

This wasn't how he ever imagined that he would leave this earth. He always thought he'd go down fighting for something, anything. Not just trapped in a room about to explode because he was stupid enough to go after a bad guy he had no chance of beating. But he guessed, while it was terrifying, it would be better for everyone if Batman didn't get dragged down with him. The world would never forgive him for being the reason Bruce died. And more importantly, he would never forgive himself for being the reason that the only man who had ever been like a father to him reached his demise.

00:07

00:06

00:05

And Dick, oh God he didn't know if his older brother would survive the loss of another loved one. Much less losing two to the same event. Perhaps his biggest regret would be that he was so mad at Dick that he didn't say goodbye before the other when off on an intergalactic mission a few days ago. He would never get to see that smile again or get another Grayson hug that he claimed were the best in the world. Damnit, he had let everyone down hadn't he? And Alfred, the old man would cry and he felt horrible just thinking about it. Suddenly the world just felt that much colder. And he couldn't hold onto the hope that he would ever get to see him again. That was just hurting to much when he knew it was false.

00:04

00:03

00:02

Fuck, why was this always the hardest part of it all? He had such a short amount of time left and he suddenly was knowing what everyone who he had seen die in his life felt. It was a cold fear as he watched the timer count down the last few seconds of his life. Even if my some miracle he survived he'd never be the same person again. And so he resigned himself to his fate.

00:01

Taking a deep breath he realized that he had never said these words. And with his dying breaths he uttered the words and hoped that some God, something somewhere would make sure that they heard them. Because this was something that Jason Peter Todd did not say lightly to anyone.

"Dick, Alfred, Bruce. I love you guys more than you know." And then he closed his eyes and waited. The ticking of the timer and his raspy breaths the only noise in the air.

00:00

 

* * *

 

 

Everyone for miles around heard the explosion that rocked the local area with its force. The small warehouse down by the docks had just burst into burning flames. Being consumed at an alarmingly fast pace. A select few people would notice the motorcycle being driven at top speeds towards the now devastated structure.

Even fewer would realize it was the Batman and those that did would tell others and everyone would leave. And so alone, with no witnesses, a father picked up the body of his son and mourned. The world would shake the next day as Batman came just a one small ounce of control away from killing the Joker. But for now a man yelled out loudly, cursing whatever force of the universe had taken his son from him. And after the anguished screaming had stopped the world would stand still.

The next day headlines about what had happened dominated the news papers front covers. Everyone was crying and the entire country and hero community mourned the death that has happened just the night before. In the midst of all this chaos Bruce Wayne, mostly unnoticed, picked up a copy of the Gotham gazette. The title read of his greatest failure and none knew of the guilt held inside.

The title was

Robin Dies; Gothams Second Boy Wonder Falls At The Hands Of A Madman.


	2. And So It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eh... sorry? I thought this posted over a week ago, but it only saved it as a draft?
> 
> In this chapter;
> 
> We see a little into the mind of Talia al Ghul and her opinion on the matter and Jason makes his miraculous return from the dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the formatting a little bit, let me know if you find it annoying.

March 11, 2017  
Unknown Time  
Unknown Location

Her steps made almost no noise as she walked down the corridors. The ancient wood beneath her feet barely even creaking as she approached the door to the study. She had been summoned by her father, the task was not one that he would tell those he sent for her. No matter how respected or high in ranking that they were.

She knocked lightly on the door. The snort answer she was expecting came in due time. Telling her to enter the room but leave the guards outside.

His back was to her. He did not indicate that he wanted her to sit, so she did not. Whatever he had asked her here for was obviously of importance. A task he wished for her to complete as soon as possible.

"I have made a grave mistake." That was something that she had never heard her father speak in his life. The words echoed in her mind, speaking to the doubts she had long since harbored in her fathers reign.

"How does this involve me?" She did not really want to know. But at the same time, her curiosity was morbid.

"I have enlisted the aid of the Joker, and I was mistaken on the amount of control I had over him." A deep sigh left his lips. "The end result of this miscalculation was....costly."

"Just how costly?" She did not want to handle her fathers financial dealings from property damage again. Those events were quite tiring. And with her own personal interests running in high demand at the moment, she would be run ragged, not that she would admit it.

"Not in terms of money, but rather of life. I am afraid that the detectives newest junior partner has lost his life." His voice was tired, unneeded deaths had always bothered her father. Though the reason for this she did not know, and doubted that she ever would.

"How did this happen?" She was irate, that was no secret. And she did not try to hide it, even at fear of her fathers wrath should she step out of line. He did not scare her when Bruce was involved.

"The Joker was meant to be a distraction for my operations in Blüdhaven, manned by Doctor Sheila Haywood. But the detectives partner struck out against Joker on his own, and was captured. I informed the detective of his whereabouts, but he did not arrive in time."

"What does this have to do with me?" Her anger was blinding. Her father knew how much of a madman the Joker was, and he still enlisted that vile creatures help to hide a simple medical research facility.

"He paid me a visit. And I have decided, in light of his grief, to mend my mistake." She could hear it, the decision in his voice. But she would not allow him to condemn the naturally kind boy to a second life. He had a hard enough first one as it was.

"Father, do you really-" He cut her off before she could finish. "I have decided, you know what to do. Take only your most trusted and complete the task. I will let you know when the resurrection is to take place. I trust you do not need any more instruction?"

"As you wish." And with that she was gone. Preparing to do something unthinkable to a boy she had met only once. She knew how her father was every time after he came out. He lost some of his humanity at the hands of the Lazarus Pit. He had once said that it left you with a burning need, not just desire, a need to destroy what had killed you, and a need to carry out whatever mission you were on. 

And sometimes, because she just laid down and did what she was told, she felt like she was worse than her father.

 

June 17, 2017  
7:40pm  
Larazus Pit, Location Unknown

 

The first semblance of life returns in the the form of sensations. Not entire thoughts, but not something that is completely abstract. It twists and turns and he does not know exactly what this is, does not have the ability too. Lost somewhere between reality and the blissful abyss that means being nothing and he is content to float there for as long as is possible.

Vaguely he somehow becomes aware of the fact that he exists. Shadows swirl and change and he is not so sure about how he feels about this. Because existing means acknowledging that there might be something. And this, something, for some reason. Feels like it might be just a little more then he wants to exist in.

Feeling gradually comes back in the form of various shades of emotions he doesn't know exactly what to call. They change and shift and he can't help but wonder, wondering, that is a new concept. Wonder if the darkness that is not exactly tranquil but also not vengeful isn't quite where he can stay. 

He knows, since when does he know things, he's not sure, that he is in some amount if pain and discomfort. It's not that he feels it per say, not like he would if he was out of this in between state, where he's not dead, but not alive, and jus floating in indescribable weightlessness and numbness. The painless pain spreads evenly over his body? and it's like a thrum, something that he knows is going to turn sharp and hurt.

All to soon the feeling of belonging and the odd numbness goes away. He knows that he is solid now, can feel it deep down and understands that he is about to come crashing through a barrier of sorts. And that is when he realizes that the tingling in his bones is concentrating on certain parts of his anatomy.

He does not want to open up his eyes and acknowledge what is happening. The weightlessness is back, but it is different than it was before. Almost like he's floating in a pool of something thick, and bubbly and suddenly he is not all that eager to leave this state. Ignorance is bliss and bliss is something that, even though he can't exactly remember, he knows he hasn't had much of.

His memories aren't so much physical feelings, but emotions. He feels what he felt in certain moments and that somehow allows him to grasp what he? he isn't really sure if this qualifies as his life anymore since he died. Because he does not feel like he did before and now he wonders if he's intruding on himself.

But before he can ponder that any more he is snapped back into the body he still isn't sure still belongs to him. His eyes force themselves open and he involuntary takes a breath. And that, that breath, was not a good thing, because now it burns inside and out.

The strange green liquid is not something he wants to stay in any longer, but he can't move. It feels like he has just taken one of those showers where the water is so hot that it feels cold at first and he wants to scream. Scream he does and it just lets more of the green liquid in which he is sure is the cause of his pain in the first place.

Then he is launched back into the only memory that he knows he doesn't want to relive. The crowbar and the knifes are invading his skin again. But where they cut he feels even more pain than he did the first time as they heal. Crushed lungs and broken ribs and bones are gone, but that laugh is still there. The explosion comes and goes but that godforsaken laugh remains on replay. And then he is yelling and kicking and screaming and he has full control of what he now knows is his body.

It's in those next few moments when he remembers his bodies beed to breath air. He kicked furiously at the water like substance, a sickening green, that wants to keep him under. His yells are silent and while it hurts to not have air in his lungs and the liquid still burns he doesn't know why he isn't drowning.

So he struggles because he can tell that his whatever it is does not want to let him go. And its terrifying, so much so, that he is not processing the fact that he is alive again. When he finally breaks the surface he is not sure what exactly comes over him. But that first breath of air, it seems to burn even worse than the green liquid did. Like knifes had taken to stabbing themselves repeatedly inside of his lungs.

But after that it all comes back to him in bursts. Flashes of memories that burn themselves into his previously unmarked mind. So sharp, so vivid that he knows they have to be his, even if he doesn't feel quite like it yet. They shoot across his subconscious and the pain threatens to overwhelm him. He barely manages to stumble just out of the pool of green liquid before he is brought to his knees and physically unable to get back up again.

He screams again. The pictures of people and places stinging with a longing to keep them all close. But at the same time reject them because remembering was painful. And he just wanted it to stop, while begging it to stay, two primal needs, one to prevent the pain and make it stop, the other to know what, not what, he was a who now. Who he was, or is, even with his memories the line between the two is a certain kind of blurry.

He is certain that it is never going to stop. But as it seems the world works, a voice breaks through. He grips onto the person it belongs to and listens to their muffled and nearly drowned out words, and he's not sure what happened. But something is being wrapped around his body and the world starts to fade. Maybe he was drugged, but he does not know, all he had at the moment are what if's and maybe's and he is unsure. 

Unsure of so many things. Unsure of the person who is holding him now, whispering into his ear. Wondering that if he really is dead, because that much, that much he knows, if this means he somehow made it to heaven. Because hazily, beneath all the confusion and warring thoughts, he knows that the few months he spent as Robin could not atone for all that he did on the streets.

So maybe this means that he is not as dead as he knew he was. But if that is not true, then what else does he know that is not actually right. This opens thousands of new doors, and suddenly he is even more unsure than before. But also sure in a completely knew way. He is sure that some of the things he knows, just knows, he exists and he knows this, may not be things that are right to know. Because if he is not dead, then what was he, because he is not exactly alive either, and he guesses, that might be what scares him the most.

Scared. That simple thought, the simple notion of fear, he knows that it has to be an emotion. But he can't quite act on it yet, it's so abstract in his limited amount of knowledge. And being able to articulate is not something he can do yet, so he just feels it. Because he knows things, but he doesn't know how to act on this, even though he feels. Not knows, he knows to much but not enough. He feels like he knew such a thing as fear very intimately once.

He is not certain how long it is before he realizes that he is no longer being held by a person. That the warmth is there, but not the same, muted and spread evenly over his person. And that is when he notices that the whispering stopped, and he feels like he misses it, but at the same time he doesn't. And he is so unsure of what he feels that he thinks it's best to go back to what it was before. Before he knew and before he felt, back when he was just there, because there was not so confusing.

All these things slip away, they fall past what he knows and feels and then they are gone. Because he knows exactly what it is, even when he doesn't want to. For now he is just going to exist, because he knows, when he wakes, that he will know even more than this. 

2:30am

He actually opens his eyes when he wakes up the next time. And being awake, well, it's far cry from the state that he was in earlier. He still doesn't have to many specifics, or know exactly where he is, but he does have memories. And he knows that something is wrong here, but this kind of knowing comes from deduction.

He takes about a minute to get his bearings back. The floor is cold beneath him, it contrasts with the wool blanket placed over his body. That's when he notices that he can feel the cold floor on places he should be covering. He is laying face down, and he smells. That is one more thing he realizes.

The only door, metal, about three feet from him does not have a handle. It has a small hole about four inches from the bottom, covered by a metal plate, that he guesses in a slot for food. The room that he is in, all things considered, is not all that large. With about seven feet from the door to the back wall and the same amount from the other side it is squared and even.

There is not a window, the light comes from a bulb that is placed behind a metal grate, to high for him, or anyone other than maybe Killer Crock or Bane to be able to reach. Very slowly he pushes himself up, because who knows what kind of fucking pedophile is watching. And even though he is almost positive they have seen everything already, he takes very special care in making sure they won't see again. He is keeping what little dignity he has left, thank you very fucking much.

And now that he is thinking about it, and not his lack of clothes, he is pretty sure he knows who has him. Out of all of the big bad's who really needed to get their asses handed to them, only one would have a stone room with metal shackles on the walls and, now that he's looking, blood stains almost everywhere except Ra's al Ghul.

And so, he stands up and hikes his blanket kilt, because he refuses to call it a skirt, even if it really isn't one, but that might just be pride. Puts out a middle finger and does one go around, positive that the man had a camera in here somewhere. Though now he was just getting pissed off. Because he knew Ra's wasn't a perv, but who the hell could say for the people watching those video feeds.

And now he is shocked by how angry he is getting over one little thing. He should have enough control to not lose it before he even know's for certain who the bad guy is. Control that was forged into him by the streets, and sharpened by months of training with Bruce. Just waiting to give those psycho's a piece of his mind, or fist, either one or both really for him.

But this kind of anger isn't something he's felt before now. It thrums in his veins, against his beating heart and flows into everything else pushed back. Anger meets depression and somewhere along the way they run into power lust, and it turns into something white hot. Like a metal rod that had just been pulled out of a coal pit was stabbing him in the heart, and it burned. Left his gasping and wanting nothing more than to beat the person watching to death.

He is not sure exactly how long it has been, but now he is banging on the door, and it is fruitless. He knows this, but he still cannot stop himself. It is a rather out of body experience, and he just wants it to stop already. Because this, this isn't him, and it terrify's him, in some place deep down that he didn't know existed, to think that he was capable of such a violent, angry outburst. 

The gas is new. It chokes him and he wonders where it came from. His thoughts are getting hazy, and his mind falling back into the familiar blankness from before. Everything is fuzzy, as if watching an old family movie, and he thinks that he hears a lock clicking as it opens. But by the time the door would have been opened he's gone, off into oblivion.

 

June 18, 2017  
12:30pm  
Ra's al Ghul's headquarters   
The Middle East

 

When he came to the next time, it was from a horrible nightmare. Though for the life of him he could not remember whit had been about. It left him chilled everywhere, a cold that he had never felt, with a side of raw terror. And he wanted to claw at his own skin after, feeling like something was terribly off.

But the rage from before was gone, it had dissipated into thin air while he was asleep. And he was left feeling more than a little bit drained, even though he had most likely slept a while from whatever gas they had pumped into his room, not that he could blame them. 

The tantrum he threw. There really wasn't another name for it, even though his dignity suffered greatly. It made him cringe at the thought, he had body slammed the door, yelling and basically making a fool out of himself. Even his fathers angry spells hadn't been that violent, it scared him.

He sighed and brought his arm up to his forehead. Rubbing his temples against the oncoming headache he slowly pushed himself up. His body, other than the headache, felt better than he could ever remember it feeling. Almost like someone had hooked him into a human battery and given him a kick start. It made him want to test his limits beyond what he realistically knew he could handle.

The new room he was in was like a bedroom. The window, though it had bars, showed a desert like landscape. It reminded him of those lessons that Bruce had given him on the middle east.

This door was wooden, and it had a knob. It was also slightly cracked open, but that was probably to let him know that he wasn't trapped. The different things around the room led him to guess that he was in a makeshift medical room, set up just for him. And awww, the psycho bad guy wants to make sure he's not messed up to bad. It strikes a cord in his heart, honestly, their so sweet to him.

He throws the covers off, and thinks a second too late, that he might still be butt naked. But, somehow, he has on a pair of boxer shorts, and he's not sure how he should feel about that. He doesn't want to think about it now and make his head worse so he settles for a combination of violated and thankful at once, with a tad bit of relief thrown in there just to shake it up a little.

"Jason, we need to talk."

And then he is looking into the face of Talia al Ghul. She is holding files, several of them. They are color sorted and he knows that he is not going to like what the next conversation is over, or the ones that follow. And the hard set of her face tells him that he is gonna be here awhile. With a sigh, he nods, no point in delaying the inevitable.


	3. Important Notification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some important notes on this story.

Hello all, I just wanted to let everyone know some things. I have decided to scrap Fall of a Friend, which for those who do not know, was the main work in this series. It is being completely rewritten and as this story is meant to add depth to that one I cannot continue to write it until I have everything planned out.

The good news is that the first chapter will not hardly change, and the second should require only minor editing. I am hammering out the finer details of Fall of a friend and so I should be able to write this story in the background once I have everything figured out.

But until I have far enough along with Fall of a Friend to make sure that everything in this book will match with the information in that one I am sad to put this story on hiatus. But if everything keeps going as good as it is expect the chapters to be taken down for editing and for new ones to begin being posted by mid September.


End file.
